


Snow In May

by atminiature



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hydra (Marvel), Mutant Powers, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Female Character, Rescue Missions, Romance, SHIELD, SHIELD Agent Bucky Barnes, Smut, reader controls the elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 16:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atminiature/pseuds/atminiature
Summary: The OC can control the elements, gets saved from captivity, and moves into the tower.He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it anymore obvious?Based of this request I got on tumblr ages ago:Bucky x mutant female reader where she controls the 4 elements. He’s mesmerized by her but Peter says that Bucky is out of her league since the reader is 19. She is secretly in love with Bucky too and they get together at the end? Slight smut if you can? Thank you!Instead of making her younger I never mentioned her age.





	Snow In May

I sit crossed legged, leaning back on the palms of my hands, and admire the view only a New York skyscraper can offer. Majestic ice crystals are thickening the air above lower Manhattan, and from my spot on the floor in front of the treadmills in the gym I have the best view. No-one spends more time than me in here, but then again – no-one ever does as little as me in here. I couldn't be bothered to get up on the treadmill I am resting my back against, but with the largest windows in the compound the gym is great for letting out steam in more ways than one.

I manage to rip my eyes of the post card when I hear two voices entering my peaceful aura.

“Is that you?” Steve asks, vaguely gesturing towards the view. I hear a duffel bag drop heavily to the floor beside me.

“Mhm.”

“It’s May,” Peter this time.

“Yeah?”

“What have the New Yorkers done to deserve snow in _May_?”

“It melts before it hits the ground,” I complain.

“You’re supposed to be under the radar, knock it off,” Steve sighs.

“I need to practice.”

“Get on the mats; if you need to practice I’m getting Wanda.”

I groan, but I don't protest. I wait until he is gone – out through the doors, into the hallway, and preferable all the way to the elevators and down. Peter seems to be disappearing away towards the climbing walls.

When I can't hear them anymore, I close my eyes and breathe in, lean towards the window, relax my jaw, and breathe out slowly; as if I am trying to create condensation on the window to doodle in. The snow that was falling peacefully towards the ground is now rippling, like the tower was a pebble disrupting a lake. The waves travel further and further away until they are out of sight. I try to keep the size of them down until they are out of my reach, not quite wanting to ignore what Steve said.

I would hate to be discovered, I would hate to go back _there_. Not really wanting to think about _there_ , right now, I turn towards the window and let my creation put me into trance again. A memory starts playing in my reflection. Almost automatically, like it already has a couple thousand times before in the past month. I fight back a shiver and let it pull me in.

***

The door opened, and I was ripped into the world, every smell and colour a thousand times more vibrant than before they changed me. And I felt _everything_. I was the wind hitting the rocks around the island, the wind pulling the waves towards the shore, the waves crashing on the sand, the sand blowing in the wind, and the thunderstorm rolling in from the ocean.

The arms that had been pulling me forward ever since the door to my cell sprung open were becoming more and more urgent, but my legs had gone numb as soon as we had climbed out of the hatch leading down to hell. The helicopter was only a couple of hundred meters away, but I couldn't move, and the wind intensified with each second, bringing sand into our eyes and lungs and the smell of sea salt into our noses.

“She needs to calm down,” one of the voices was shouting, barely reaching anyone through the gusts of air.

The arm that had been holding me up let go, and someone else, slightly more gentle, took over and lowered me towards the ground until I was sitting with my knees bent under me in the pale sand dried by the sun. My hands sunk down to the knuckles.

The woman in front of me, young with auburn hair, carefully took my head between her hands, and I suddenly felt like myself again. I was not connected to the gusts of air anymore, the splashing of the waves, or the sand under my palms. Like she removed a sense from me as essential as hearing or taste, but I relished.

_I am like you. You need to clear your mind from it until you can control it._

It took me some time before I realized she wasn't actually talking, she was inside my head. I jerked away as if she had burnt me and the oasis burst like a bubble. I could still feel the air, but it was not raging anymore, it was not pulling the water as high up onto the beach as before.

For a brief second or two we were just staring at each other, me and the woman, then someone decided we were late enough.

“Let’s go.”

The person the voice belonged to hooked his arm over my back and helped me up again. When the world around me was no longer overtaking me, I finally gave myself time to tilt my head up to him. He was already watching me through bright blue eyes, but did not seem embarrassed by meeting my gaze.

He opened his mouth slightly, but before he had time to say anything I stiffened against his arm. I do not know if I heard it or felt it – the way you feel a current against your skin when wading through a river – but there was boats approaching on the water. Fast.

I ripped myself away from him and started running towards the edge of the beach. He stretched his arm after me, but made no serious attempt to keep me in his grasp – where was I supposed to go? It would probably take less than 20 minutes to walk around the island. But they didn't know me yet.

I didn't know why I was kept out there. Maybe to practise, eventually, to make sure no-one could ever notice if I went out of control. They probably didn't know more than me about what I had become.

Someone was saying – screaming – something, but I couldn't make out what, and it didn't matter anyways. I thought I could hear footsteps and someone panting behind me, so I sped up.

“I have to get closer,” I yelled behind my back, not really caring if they caught it or not. When I reached the shoreline I continued right out into the water – it parted beneath my feet. The hard-packed, damp, sand against my bare feet was colder than I had imagined it would be, and it turned out the bay wasn't very shallow. I soon was surrounded by thick walls of water that blocked off what was left off the wind, and muffled all noises except for my own breathing. Whoever was running after me had stayed behind when I parted the ocean at the shoreline. I stopped when the water was stretching about ten meters above me, then I held my breath and listened. 

If you listen, there are all kinds of noises being carried through water – I concentrated on the low whirring of engines that came right in front of me, and forcefully stretched my arm out towards it. The water bent for my hand and split open in a deep, dark wound. The motorboat that had been approaching the shore fell down from what looked like the height of a ten storey building, and landed in the slum of the bottom of the ocean accompanied by the noise of cracking metal. One more to go, _there was two, right?_ I turned slightly to my left and restarted the process. _Bubbles, something pounding, the whirring noise of an engine._ I extended my other arm and a new corridor formed before me, this one a lot shorter than the first. The second boat only dropped about 10 meters. I stood still for a minute, taking a second to realize what I just did, and slowly, slowly, I started backing out – my hands still stretched out in front of me – but my control was fading like shadows exposed to light. The walls of water, pushed into place with the help of rage and adrenalin, were quivering over me. In the distance I saw limping silhouettes of survivors crawling out of the carcases I created. The air, heavy with humidity, suddenly felt difficult to breathe but stuck to my neck and trickled down my back instead. Slowly, I turned my head around towards the beach – my lack of concentration rewarded me with a shower of saltwater from the towering sea. There was still a long way to the shore. Gathering all the strength I had left, I started walking backwards. The walls of water responded by suddenly closing in with a meter on each side. The hallway became a tunnel, and the figures from the second boat at the end of it were moving towards me faster than I could ever have reached land. Numbness started spreading from my guts towards the tips of my fingers. _At least they will not get to live either._

I lowered my shaking hands. Then I looked behind me again. A group of strangers was the last thing I would ever see, but that at least was better than the faces of the people I just executed. The next second the water came rushing back with the force of a sledgehammer and blissfully pressed the air out of my lungs so I wouldn't have to feel the pain of having to do it myself before I died.

***

Wedged in between the treadmills and the windows of the gym, I squeeze my eyes shut. My brain almost continues with when I woke up in the hospital, but I force it to stop. Instead I skip to where the good memories come in. I met lot of people in the beginning – people like me, people who wanted to understand me, people who wanted to help me – it got old quickly. James Barnes was introduced as “the guy who swam and pulled you out of the water”.

He was curious but not invasive, careful around me but not scared, and I like to think that it is not a coincidence that he is always in the gym when Wanda and I have our sessions

***

“Too bad you don’t have a shot.”

_You little shit._

“Get lost. Why is that?” I ask without taking my eyes of the snow falling in playful spirals towards the ground.

“Because you’re old,” Peter replies without hesitation.

“The age difference was larger between my parents,” I shrug, not even trying convincing him it is the weather I’m admiring. We are standing on the second floor of the gym, looking down from the viewing balcony. I am leaning with my elbows on on the railing while Peter is all over the place as usual; right now he is perched up on the same, thin slab of glass I am resting my arms on.

He scoffs, “Man, you were born in the forties, and not to mention: you’re almost a hundred years old.”

I sigh, “Can’t believe that I have the same crush as Spider-boy.”

“As her friend I’m supposed to protect her against old creeps.”

“Is there anything, _anything_ , I can do to make you go away?”

“You and your Colt M19 can promise to meet me at ten on the shooting range tomorrow.”

I struggle to hide a smile, “Deal.”

Peter squeaks out a “Thanks, Sergeant,” before scurrying away like the bathroom-cockroach he is, and I gather my things before heading down the stairs to her. I stop a few metres away, hands in my pockets, admiring the view, just like she seems to be. Then she spots me in the window and turns her head away from her creation. I start walking again to close the remaining distance and feel a grin growing on my face when she smiles back at me. She gets up slowly, readjusting the thin top that clings to her figure in a way that looks, to use the expression of a gentleman, very favourable.

***

My mouth moves on its own and I hear it ask, “Do you want to help me train?”

“I’m not Wanda,” he pulls the corner of his lips up.

He does keep doing this to me; he makes me go on instincts. Every word that comes out from my mouth is what my body wants me to say while my brain in as dead as a dried grape. I pull the shoulder of my boat neck tee-shirt, which keeps sliding down no matter how I move, and stroll to meet him. I walk until I have to tilt my head up to look at him, which is closer than my brain would have allowed if it had a say, but I already know Bucky won't mind;

Stark likes to throw parties, neither me nor Bucky are very into parties. The last time I convinced Bucky to take me outside to the helipad instead. So it goes.

I don't get to go outside much, but ever since they changed me I have craved it. The elements are part of my senses and to keep me from them is to restrict me. I made the air go still around us and we watched the sun rise. He kissed me, one twice, until I lost count, but before too soon for my liking, he had escorted me back to my quarters. Then I did not see him for three days.

I walked around with a lump in my guts until him and Steve landed again. They never tell me what their missions are about, so I've no way of knowing if they're coming back beaten up, or even at all.

Ever since they returned I've been trying to catch him alone - of course he would be the one who caught me alone instead.

“How’ve you been?” He asks tilting his head slightly to the side and bringing his hands to rest on my shoulders. The movement is so normal, so natural, like he always does it when sees me.

“Alright,” I reply quietly, “A bit worried.”

Something flashes in his eyes, a pang of guilt maybe. His gaze flickers from my face to something behind me in the window. “I’m-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I bring my right hand up to his face, as if to turn him back to look me. “It’s alright.” I run my thumb lightly over the stubble on his cheek.

His grip hardens on my shoulders when he looks at me again, and I feel a pull, like tide, drawing us millimetres closer to each other.

“I’m still sorry, though,” he whispers, but I barely register it.

We both know where this is going. We've been on a collision course for a while now.

My hand is still resting by his jaw, but a bit further back now. I didn't feel his hair before. At some point that I was not aware of, I had moved my other hand up as well to rest on his opposite shoulder.

This is perfect. Now, if only…

His fingers are light over my thin top, but they still keep me in place as he bends down catch my lips with his. I meet him halfway there and catch myself wishing he would _grab me_ , so I felt him all over me. Hoist me up and make the floor disappear under my feet. To demonstrate, I reach all the way up with my right arm and hook it over his neck to keep him close to me. He seems to tag on and as the kiss deepens – and starts to turn into an obscene make out-session – one of his hands travels down my back and settles over my waist. After a few more seconds of weightlessness, we both pull away just enough to catch our breaths. With our foreheads still touching I can't see his eyes, but I feel his warmth radiating out from his chest and I imagine his heart pounding under my hand. His chest is moving heavily up and down and I can hear myself letting out a tiny gasp. I feel his mouth turning into a smirk, and before I can recover completely, fill my lungs with the oxygen I need to function, his lips are back on mine; chasing away the last reasoning I had. I can't think about anything else than _him_ , his breath behind my ear, on my neck, his hands exploring every inch of my body they can reach. I am trying to keep up, but eventually I let him take the control, blissfully sedated.

With one hand on my waist and the other holding me just below my breast, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin there, he stops and says my name.

Still on my tip-toes from after kissing him, I try to make an affirmative noise, but it comes out more like a moan.

He chuckles and I manage to pronounce a meak “What?”

“Let’s see how much you missed me.”

He starts pulling us towards the wall, or the exit. I wouldn't mind either one of them and it is hard to tell in my state, but I cooperate willingly.

***

The doors to his quarters swing open and he leads me in with his chest pressed against my back and his right hand resting somewhere below my bellybutton. I pull him with me by his other hand further into the living room until we stumble into his recliner where I without words – because our mouths are busy – manage to get him to sit. My hands tremble a bit when I undo his pants, but he sits back patiently and is content just running his hands up and down my shoulder blades for now. When I am done, one of his hands travels up into my hair and stays there. I bow my head down and take him into my mouth until he touches the back of my throat and it is not humanly possible for me to fit anymore. Then I try to go back slowly so he can feel everything I do before starting to work my way up and down. His fingers tighten occasionally against my scalp, offering a delicious tug of paint each time. After a while he starts thrusting gently into my mouth. His moans makes my legs tremble and shoots bursts of heaviness into my core. He must be very close to release when he finally tightens his grip on my hair again and pulls me back. For a moment he just holds me there, but then he crashes his lips into mine.

“You’re stunning.”

Still on my knees between his legs, we get rid of my bra and my shirt, and on our way to the bedroom his clothes are discharged too.

I lay down at the end of the bed, and he takes his place standing between my legs that he pulls carefully so he can reach to run his hands up and down my thighs. I would like to close them just to get a tiny bit of friction, but the only thing I can really accomplish is squeezing his hips. He looks annoyingly satisfied by this and grabs my waist and pulls me a little bit closer, so that he can reach the knot of my pants. Then he starts pulling them down and throws them on the floor beside him. He bends down to place a kiss on my panties, and the feeling of his breath and his lips are almost enough to drive me crazy by themselves.

“Bucky, you… have to-”

“What are you saying sweetheart?” he hums and smiles down at me.

I would've wanted to be slightly more collected the first time I was going to be splayed out in front of him, but I can only take a deep breath before continuing.

“Just fuck me.”

When my panties are gone too, he moves his legs further apart to keep me open before he places himself at my entrance. He does not enter in a hurry either, which in hindsight probably was a good idea. I wish I could touch him or at least kiss him, but he is still standing at the end of the bed.

He enters me slowly, taking a break every now and then to push in and out a few times. Even though it is for the better, since it probably would be too painful to do it any faster, it is driving me crazy. He is not even fully sheeted inside me and I am already holding back whimpers. When he is almost done, I bring up the backside of my hand mouth. My core is heavy and warm, it feels perfect as the same time as I can't wait to move.

“Uh uh, you’re going to be loud for me, sweetheart.” He leans over me and puts a hand under my back to lift us higher on to the bed. In the motion he swats my hand over my mouth away as well. He places himself over me so I finally can feel his weight on me properly, then he tangles a hand into my hair again while the other one still cradles my back. As we kiss I feel him going deeper and deeper, grinding into microscopic circles, until he at last stops. Breathing heavy, I clench a couple of times around him. I do not know if I lost the feeling in my legs or if it is just overshadowed by the feeling of being this stretched and having all of him inside me. I feel his smile against my lips again before he lifts himself up just high enough to look at me.

“You alright?” He asks as he presses another kiss behind my ear.

Yeah,” I nod shakily, lifting my hips slightly – as much as I can – to tell him to go on. My core responds to the slight preassure with a spark.

Finally, he starts pulling out, making me feel every inch. Then he presses back in equally slowly, making me writhe between his arms, that are heavily placed on either side of my chest.

“Am I filling you up good?” He asks with a grin, I only give out another gasp in response. I try to move, to do _anything_ that will give me more friction, more speed, but there's only so much you can do when you're not on top. Bucky just chuckles lowly and kisses my neck and my forehead before repeating his agonizing movements for a few more minutes – by the time he decides to pick up the pace I am almost seeing stars. He lifts himself up a bit so he is supporting himself on his elbows on either side of my head instead, giving him access to kiss more of me. His lips find my collarbone. My hands find his shoulders. He is going to have small crescent shaped marks there tomorrow or maybe for weeks if this continues. Between his steady and sharp thrusts he tells me how good I make him feel. There's a dull ache in my scalp, a dull ache between my legs, and his heavy form weighting me down.

I figure out that he hardens when I beg. To please go deeper, or harder, but not until he has dragged it out for a bit, making me work for it.

He figures out that it turns me on when he gives me orders. When he decides what positions he wants to take me in, and in what pace.

He slows down occasionally to drag it out, and to tell me how good I make him feel, but soon I manage to convince him to push me over the edge and as I repeatedly clench around him I feel his release warming me from the inside.

We do not move for a while, there is so much to feel still – cradling each other’s faces, forehead to forehead, before we need to get up. We reluctantly, and giggly, let go of each other when I leave for the bathroom and he goes into the kitchen.

***

“Shit I’ve got like five missed calls from Wanda.” I'm wrapped into one of his bedsheets.

“Huh?” Bucky asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“Steve said he’d bring her to train with me, didn’t thing he actually meant it.”

“No, I got that pretty covered.” He leans over and presses a slow kiss against my lips. It makes me dizzy again.

“Fuck, what do I tell her?” I chew my lower lip.

“That you met this sex God and he had a much better deal.”

“Get over yourself,” I slap his arm, but he only puts it over my shoulders and pulls me closer to him. He stares down at my phone.

He's about to say something else, but gets interrupted by a sharp buzzing sound before finishing the first word. Surprised, he lets go of me and retrieves his own from the marble counter behind us.

He grins down at me. “Hi Wanda.”

Paus.

“Yes she´s here.”

He waits a few more seconds.

“Completely my fault, sorry.” He gives out a sigh and places the phone on the counter again, on speaker. I'm not really sure if it's because I absolutely need to be in the conversation or if it's because he wants to be able to put his hands back on my waist.

“You know, we’re all very happy for you, but you could have told me where she was, especially since she’s got quite the price on her-”

“Wait a sec, what do you mean with ‘we’re all very happy for you’?” I interrupt.

“Was it Peter who tattled?” Bucky asks.

“Come on, you’ve been eyeing each other for weeks, Peter was like the last person to tick on.” There's a brief moment of silence where not me or Bucky know what to respond. “Anyways, hate to interrupt your date or… whatever you’re doing”

“We’re just hanging out on the helipad, you’re not interrupting anything,” I try so sound innocent.

“I already had FRIDAY check the helipad before calling.”

“Well…” Bucky clears his throat, “then we’re all sorted here aren’t we?” He bends down to quietly start kissing my throat.

“Yup.” Wanda sounds eager to hang up again.

I put my hands on his shoulder to hold him off just a little bit longer. “Really, I’m so sorry Wanda. I would never have gone off if I knew you were coming.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies stiffly.

“See you, Wanda,” Bucky sings and lets one hand off me to fumble for the red call button.

As soon as she’s gone, he states “At least we don’t have to worry about letting anyone knowing where we are for the rest of the day.”


End file.
